


Five Times Jack And Jacob Talk

by wackyjacqs



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s02e09 Secrets, Episode: s03e12 Jolinar's Memories, Episode: s03e13 The Devil You Know, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wackyjacqs/pseuds/wackyjacqs
Summary: Five times Jack and Jacob talk – and one time they don't.
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 68
Kudos: 146





	1. Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said I wouldn’t be posting any new stories until I finished my other WIP projects, but that hasn't happened, so... 
> 
> This is also something new for me as I’ve never tried a ‘five times’ fic before so, please, go easy on me!

**Chapter 1: Secrets**

Jacob nods brusquely at the doorman as he steps out of the building and onto the busy Washington street. He has to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare off the pavement but the light breeze that swirls helps keep the temperature down and as the cool air reaches his lungs, he allows himself a deep breath. It’s a welcome reprieve from the air-conditioning system he’s had to endure over the past couple of hours, even if it makes him cough. The now-familiar sensation of light-headedness soon follows and he curses softly, but even though he’s unsteady on his feet, he refuses to call for help. He takes another deep breath and the coughing subsides enough to let him move aside of the main doors to the building. He leans a shoulder against the wall and sighs.

He hates what the cancer is doing to him, and how the chemotherapy is leaving him weakened and vulnerable and unable to do a majority of things he once took for granted. As he looks around, his breathing slowly returns to normal but he finds it hard to breathe. It’s almost as if he is suffocating and he doesn’t know why. He shakes his head and takes another moment to collect his thoughts but it doesn’t make him feel any better and he starts to wonder whether he’s trying to quell the dizziness that remains or quell the warring emotions that are also now making their way to the surface.

Pushing himself away from the wall he glances up at the stone structure, as if searching for the faintest glimmer of hope; the unrealized potential of something extraordinary just waiting to be discovered in an otherwise nondescript government building. He tells himself it has nothing to do with the fact his gaze settles on the window he’s left his daughter crying behind.

With a final lingering glance, he returns his attention to the sidewalk and watches the people pass by in both directions. Typical of cities, most people appear to be in a hurry. He spots the Air Force personnel, their uniforms making them hard to miss even in the crowd; he sees the tourists as they attempt to halt the pedestrian traffic and take a photo of the Washington Monument in the distance; he studies a family as the dad kneels down to wipe a tear away from his little girl’s eye before he picks her up and settles her on his hip as they move further along the sidewalk. Jacob forces himself to look away and up to the sky. Despite the different people that fill the city, he’s pretty sure most of them are still unaware of the events that occurred on these streets today: a journalist losing his life in what the USAF claims is an ‘accident’; the President having to cancel an important ceremony as a result; a far-from-perfect family reunion.

Jacob shakes his head, then tucks his overcoat under his arm and straightens his shoulders as he makes his way towards the sidewalk. He thinks about going home but the idea of sitting alone in the silence doesn’t hold the same appeal it once did, and there’s nothing for him to do there anymore; the house is packed up and – even though his original plans to surprise Sam with a job at NASA haven’t gone to plan – the boxes are ready to ship out to his new apartment in Colorado Springs in the morning. A humourless chuckle escapes him at how his daughter will react when she hears he’s moving into her town. He guesses he’ll find out soon enough and as he joins the crowd, he turns right instead of left. He needs a drink.

He doesn’t tend to drink often, and when he does it’s only a beer or whiskey, so he chooses to visit one of the more respectable, but out-of-the-way, bars the city has to offer. It takes a few minutes to reach and as Jacob steps inside the establishment he lets the door swing shut behind him. It blocks out the natural light and emphasises the dim lighting installed inside. The dark green walls are decorated with framed pictures of the city’s most famous patrons, while the furniture is wood and red velvet. It’s warm and as he takes another step inside, he scrunches his nose as the smell of alcohol reaches his nostrils. It’s not necessarily _bad_ ; he’s just not used to frequenting these kinds of places anymore and his tolerance for smells isn’t as strong as he likes it to be ever since he’s started treatment. He glances around and sees the bar is quiet and unassuming. It’s just what he needs, so he tries to relax as he passes by a number of empty tables. He throws his overcoat onto an empty stool at the far end of the bar, settles on the one beside it and signals for the barman.

He closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose; he’s exhausted and knows he needs to eat something, but he can’t muster the energy to even ask for a food menu. He has spoken to the best consultants the United States has to offer and he’s aware that his prognosis isn’t good; they have given him just months to live, but he is determined to beat the cancer, so he knows he needs to start looking after himself better if he wants to meet that goal. It’s enough to convince Jacob that he’ll have one beer and then head home and make himself dinner with what’s left in the refrigerator.

With a heavy sigh, he rests his elbows on the bar ledge. His original plans had also involved dinner with his daughter but he realizes he was a fool to think that was going to happen. Without warning, his anger and upset and disappointment at Sam’s reaction to his NASA news surges forward and he lets them simmer for a few moments before he pushes them aside and allows regret to fill the space. He knows it’s fine to feel the way he does, but that he should be directing those emotions towards himself, no one else, because despite their differences – and what Samantha might think – he has never been disappointed with, or in, her. He has always been proud of her and everything she’s accomplished.

He orders a beer when the barman finally makes his way down to him but waits until he’s alone again before he lets his thoughts drift back to his earlier meeting with Sam. It was the first time he’d seen her in almost two years; ever since she transferred to Colorado Springs and Cheyenne Mountain and _deep space radar telemetry_. In that time, Jacob has tried to find out what his daughter does under that mountain every day but even with calling in his various markers, no-one has been able to tell him anything he couldn’t find out for himself – which only confirms his suspicions that her cover story needs work. He sighs again. He doesn’t care that Sam’s work is classified; he’s been a part of that world and knows exactly what it can entail and he doesn’t want that for his little girl whose eyes have always been on the stars – because that is what she deserves. She needs to be flying free, exploring and leaving her mark in the galaxy, rather than being stuck behind a desk, and doing god only knows what with that commanding officer of hers.

Jacob feels his hackles rise, nods sharply at the barman as his beer arrives and tries not to let his anger grow as he takes a drink. He thought his concerns would ease when he discovered George Hammond was watching over Sam, but he can’t shake the stab of betrayal that even one of his oldest friends can’t let him into what his daughter does. He knows Sam is being looked after and she _did_ seem happier and more relaxed than he’s ever known her to be, and Jacob realizes that’s part of the problem because he saw the change in his kid when Colonel O’Neill made an appearance. It surprised him.

It was the way O’Neill had sought his daughter out and brought her a drink; it was the overly jovial tone the man had used to make conversation; it was his seeming insistence – in front of two superior officers no less – to call her _Sam_. As if that wasn’t enough, it’s the other signs Jacob noticed that really worry him. It was the way Sam seemed almost _too_ friendly in the colonel’s presence; the way she looked at him as the introductions were made; the way Jack’s shoulder brushed against his daughter’s as he finally took his leave.

Taking another sip of beer, Jacob frowns. He not’s stupid, and neither is Sam, so he isn’t quite sure what the hell she’s thinking, but if he has doubts about the professional nature of her relationship with her commanding officer, then he’s pretty sure he isn’t the only one. He decides to let the dust settle for a couple of days before he gives George another call.

A headache starts to build behind Jacob’s eyes; another side effect from the treatment. Feeling suddenly weary, he runs a hand across his forehead and he leans his elbows on the bar ledge as he glances around. It’s approaching early evening but the bar is still quiet and it gives him a chance to observe his fellow patrons who are all busy minding their own business. He’s almost finished with his sweep when his attention is drawn to a booth in the far corner and his eyes narrow when he sees who is sitting at the table.

The man looks despondent which Jacob concedes is understandable as he _did_ witness a man being killed today, but there’s something else. Regret, he thinks, or possibly guilt. He decides to find out which one it is, and with renewed determination, picks up his overcoat and beer and heads towards the booth.

“Colonel O’Neill.”

Jack looks up, surprised by the interruption but he quickly recovers.

“General Carter.”

He starts to slide out of his seat when Jacob holds up a hand.

“Don’t get up on my account.” When the younger man hesitates, Jacob resists the urge to smile even though it makes him feel a little better to know that his new drinking companion is ill-at-ease with his appearance. “Mind if I join you?”

Jacob doesn’t wait for an answer. He slides onto the bench opposite, then takes his time to fold his overcoat and place it beside him. When he settles back, he knows he’s being scrutinized, so he lifts his beer and tips it in the colonel’s direction in silent thanks. He waits a moment before he gestures towards Jack and his own, half-empty bottle of beer.

“I’m surprised to find you here, Colonel.”

“I could say the same about you, sir – and it’s Jack.”

“Jack,” he repeats, “right. So,” he adds as he glances around nonchalantly, “I know why I’m here, but what about you?”

A frown puckers Jack’s brow. “General?”

“I assumed you would be on the first flight back to Colorado. You know,” he says with a hint of a challenge, “time, and the analysis of deep space radar telemetry waits for no man, after all.”

He takes another sip of his drink as he watches O’Neill’s demeanour change. The deliberate blank expression that settles on his face; the lack of emotion in his eyes; the image of a man hiding something.

“Yeah, well,” Jack finally answers as he reaches for his own beer, “time might not wait, but Andrews certainly does.”

Jacob huffs out a laugh at the response before he catches the colonel’s eye. “You don’t strike me as a man of science, Jack.”

“There’s probably a lot you don’t know about me, sir.”

“True,” he concedes, then sets his beer down, folds his arms on the table and leans in, his voice lowering, “but I know enough. Black ops, right?”

Jack’s expression changes again; this time, the blankness vanishes and is replaced with a hardness, a defensiveness, that wasn’t there before. It lets Jacob know he’s pushing the right buttons. “Iraq, wasn’t it?”

“Classified.”

“Your file says as much.”

Jack’s eyebrows rise at the admission. “You’ve read my file?”

“What I could find of it,” he offers with a smile, but it’s not entirely friendly. “Despite what my daughter thinks, I do take an interest in her career. I like to know the people she’s working with have her back.”

“I can assure you, sir, that your daughter is a valuable member of my team.”

“And, can I ask, in what capacity are you voicing that judgment, _Colonel?_ ”

Their gazes clash and the flash of fire in Jack’s eyes contrasts with the icy tone that laces his next words. “As her commanding officer, _General._ ”

They both continue to stare but Jack’s defiance surprises Jacob because he knows, no matter what, you can’t fake that kind of reaction and it makes him think he should reassess his initial assumptions regarding Jack and his daughter. So, he relents and decides that maybe the pair aren’t sleeping together. But he isn’t blind either. He knows there’s _something_ there, simmering beneath the surface – even if the two officers don’t fully realize it themselves yet.

The thought fills Jacob with dread and he wonders if the unknown really is more dangerous than the known.

“Part of the reason I came to see Sam today was to offer her a new job,” he says as he reaches for his beer, “but she turned it down. Didn’t even say she would think about it.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Jacob turns his head and casts a look around before he meets Jack’s gaze, “I just want to see her do well.”

“She was due to receive the Air Medal today.”

“Ever since she was little, all Sam ever wanted to be was an astronaut. The chance of actually going to space was the dream she swore she was going to make a reality – and now she’s throwing it all away.”

“Captain Carter would disagree.”

“Hmm,” Jacob mutters, then continues as if Jack hasn’t spoken, “but I have dreams for my daughter too, colonel. You should understand that; you had a son.”

He knows it’s a low blow, and he immediately feels guilty when Jack’s expression darkens. He watches and waits as Jack visibly tries to rein in his anger.

“With all due respect, General,” he quietly replies and Jacob knows he would be an idiot to not hear the complete lack of respect in Jack’s tone as he takes a final swig of his beer and gets to his feet, “you read my file. You know what happened.”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” he says, closing his eyes, “I was out of order.”

“Yes, you were,” he answers firmly. Jacob refuses to look away as he lets Jack study him, as if trying to decide whether he really is apologetic, and when some of the shadows in his eyes disappear, Jacob takes a breath and gestures to where Jack was sitting moments earlier. “Please,” he says.

It takes a few more seconds before the younger man sighs and sits back down.

“I don’t care what Sam says; being among the stars is where she is destined to be.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Jack replies quietly, almost as if he’s in agreement, and Jacob jumps on the opportunity.

“So, what the hell is she doing in Cheyenne Mountain?”

He pins Jack with a stare and the younger man briefly closes his eyes before he sighs. “General Carter –”

“I’m not a well man, Colonel. Humor me. _Please._ ”

As he whispers the last word, confusion puckers Jack’s brow. “Sir?”

“I have cancer. Lymphoma.”

“That’s… bad.”

Despite the circumstances, Jacob smiles wryly at the mirrored answer he’s unwittingly received from his daughter and her commanding officer. “The doctors say I have months to live.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says sincerely. “Does Sam –”

“Yeah. I told her earlier.” A low whistle escapes the man sitting opposite him and Jacob cants his head. When he raises a brow in silent question, Jack shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. Unwittingly, it’s Jacob who finds himself filling the silence. “I guess I wanted to see Sam fulfil her life’s dreams before –” He trails off with a sigh.

“Look,” Jack says softly after a moment as he leans his forearms on the table, “I can’t tell you what you want to know but you’re going to have to trust me when I say our work is important.” Jacob is about to interrupt when something makes him stop. It’s the longest sentence to voluntarily leave Jack since they started talking, so he waits to see if he’ll continue with his thoughts. “Your daughter is one hell of an officer, sir, not to mention a complete genius. Our work – the program we’re involved in – it’s nothing without her. You should be proud of her but, right now, we need her with us. She isn’t throwing away her dreams, believe me. Sam knows that too.”

“I see,” Jacob finally says, “well, I appreciate your candor.”

Both men fall into a silence just this side of comfortable when Jack glances at his watch, drums his fingers against the table top and winces. “I, ah,” he begins, “wish I could stay longer, but I really need to be going.”

“So soon?”

“You said it yourself,” he easily retorts as he slides out of the booth, “deep space radar telemetry waits for no man – or woman.”

Jacob can’t help the chuckle that escapes. “Look after my little girl for me, colonel,” he says as he reaches up to shake Jack’s hand.

“Yes, sir.”

“If not, I’ll hear about it,” he grins, “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

“I look forward to it,” Jack nods. He hesitates slightly, as if thinking over his next words. “If there’s anything I can do –”

“Thanks, son,” he murmurs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a final smile, Jack raps his knuckles against the table. “Take care of yourself, Dad.”

Jacob watches him leave and, oddly, finds himself reassessing his initial opinion of Jack O’Neill. He still doesn’t want to fully trust him, but the man has impressed him over the last few minutes and, even if he hates to admit it, Jacob isn’t too proud to say that he was wrong and that the colonel _is_ a good man. He lets another moment pass before he pushes the rest of his drink aside and gets to his feet. As he shakes out his overcoat, he casts one more glance at the door and smiles.

Of all the doubts he’s had today, Jack is the only one that no longer exists, and it makes Jacob feel better knowing that he’s the one looking out for his daughter.


	2. The Devil You Know

With what feels like a Herculean effort, Jacob pushes his empty plate towards the center of the table and rests his hands on his stomach, fingers laced together, and closes his eyes as he leans further back into the chair. A contended sigh escapes him.

“And I thought Teal’c could eat.”

The voice comes from Jacob’s right, but he also hears a soft chuckle to his immediate left at the statement, so he cracks open an eye and first turns his head to see Colonel O’Neill watching him with amusement from the other side of the table. There’s no malice to his words however, just teasing, and Jacob can’t help but smile – especially when he hears Sam laugh again. He turns his head to the left just in time to see her glance at Jack, then at him, a smile playing around her lips.

“What can I say,” Jacob shrugs, returning his attention to the younger man, “the food was better than I expected.”

A snort escapes Jack as he casts a glance at the grill, while Jacob closes his eyes again, tilts his face towards the sky and takes a deep breath. He lets the sun warm his skin and listens to the birds chirp in the trees and the soft voices of SG-1 as they move around him and hold their own conversations.

He’s feeling better today; stronger, and more alert. Selmak has been able to heal most of his injuries over the past couple of days for which he is thankful as it’s meant he’s had to spend less time in the infirmary and been able to spend more time with Sam. It’s another reason he enjoys being a member of the Tok’ra as they really have given him a second chance at life and a way to remain an important part of his daughter’s life – and, subsequently, the lives of her team.

It’s why he’s sitting here now, surrounded by the four of them, at Jack’s house having a barbecue. Not that he is complaining: the food and company have both been excellent.

But he resists the urge to laugh because for everything he is thankful for, there are some things Jacob cannot get used to where the Tok’ra are concerned – and one of the main issues is the food. Which is strange, he thinks, because while he’s eaten his fair share of MREs and questionable delicacies over the years, there’s just something about the Tok’ra diet that he’ll never be on board with. It’s at times like this he realizes how much he misses barbecue food.

“Did you get enough to eat, Jacob?”

“Too much,” he answers with a grin and he hears another chuckle from Jack. “I think I’m going to need someone to roll me back to the SGC.”

“You haven’t even had dessert yet,” Jack says in mock disappointment. “Teal’c brought three different kinds of pie.”

A groan escapes Jacob as Sam laughs. He glances over at her and she places a hand placatingly on his arm before she gets to her feet. She’s still smiling as she helps Jack tidy away their dinner dishes and Jacob finds himself smiling too.

Even after Sam turns away from him, he continues to watch her and despite the events of the past week, he decides his daughter looks happy and carefree. It’s almost enough to allow him to finally push the last mission from his mind and forget about what they had to endure. _Almost._

“Do you want another drink, dad?”

Her voice pulls him from his thoughts. Jack is reaching over to take the plates from her and once Sam’s hands are free, she grabs a couple of the empty beer bottles scattered around the table.

“Sure, why not,” he shrugs. He goes to stand, only for Jack to place his free hand on his shoulder.

“We’ve got it handled, Dad,” he smirks before he disappears into the house. Sam isn’t far behind and Jacob hears Jack mutter something else before his daughter’s laughter reaches his ears. He settles back in his chair.

Hearing Sam laugh is something Jacob will never tire of. He closes his eyes and burns the memory into his mind, replacing the ones he has of her from Netu. He’s briefly unable to repress the shudder of how close his daughter came to dying at the hands of Bynarr and he feels Selmak reminding him to breathe; telling him that it’s okay, they all made it out alive.

Taking a deep breath, Jacob tries to glance over his shoulder and into the house. He can vaguely make out Jack’s profile as he moves around the kitchen and he shakes his head before he returns his attention to the yard.

 _“Dad,”_ he mutters under his breath and he thinks back to the conversation he had with the younger man a few days earlier.

* * *

The low, but consistent, hum of the cargo ship as it makes its way back home should bring Jacob some form of comfort. Instead, he finds the engines too loud; the floor too uncomfortable; and the makeshift sleeping quarters too claustrophobic for someone who’s just spent the past four days – maybe longer by now, he still isn’t sure – trapped in hell.

He concedes that Selmak is slowly regaining strength and trying to heal their injuries as quickly as possible, but it doesn’t feel like enough. He is restless, impatient, and just wants to get home. To Earth. Where he can spend a few days with his daughter and recuperate in the knowledge that the most dangerous mission they are likely to face is whether he or Sam should cook dinner.

Jacob allows himself a small smile at the dilemma before his amusement is replaced with anger. His daughter – not to mention the rest of SG-1 – have absolutely no excuse for risking their lives to try and save his and he vows to give them all a piece of his mind once they are back safely on terra firma.

With a sigh, Jacob decides he is too agitated to rest further and opens his eyes. He scans the small space to discover all of them, except for Aldwin, are squeezed into the cargo hold. Martouf is to his immediate left, his back resting against the wall with his legs stretched out in front as he sleeps. Teal’c is to the other side of Martouf; he sits cross-legged, eyed closed, for Kelnoreem. Next to him is Daniel who lies on his side and curled in a ball, his glasses askew as he lightly snores. Jacob smirks and shakes his head fondly at the archaeologist. He then lets his attention drift to the other side of the space and his amusement quickly vanishes when he sees Sam virtually sleeping in her commanding officer’s arms. He sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face.

Even though he was out of it for most of the time on Netu, he remembers a few moments; namely when Jack risked his life to try and convince the Jaffa to take him first rather than Sam to see Apophis, and how, when he proved too unruly, took a staff blast to the leg for her. He also recalls how Colonel O’Neill was the first one to check on her when she was returned to the cell and how, in the quietness of the shadows, he comforted her as she tried to rest, despite the nightmares Jack himself had been forced to face.

Jacob had observed the two of them together in the cell and he was too exhausted to try and understand how it made him feel at the time, but now that they are free and making their way home, he’s still unsure as to how the situation sits with him – he just knows he feels differently from the first time he saw the two officers together on that fateful afternoon in Washington.

But it’s too heavy and dangerous a subject to dwell on right now, Jacob thinks, so he forces his gaze away from the couple and slowly gets to his feet before he heads into the front section of the tel’tak. He places a hand on Aldwin’s shoulder and speaks quietly.

“I’ll take over here for a while. You need to rest too.”

The younger Tok’ra silently gives up the controls and Jacob slides into the seat. As he gets comfortable and stares out of the window, he allows himself a small smile. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this view,” comes the reserved echoing statement from over his shoulder just a moment later.

“Jack,” he greets, not turning around. He hears the colonel moving around behind him before he sits down in the seat to his right. “You should be resting.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs. “And I could say the same for you.”

It’s Jacob’s turn to shrug. “Selmak is handling it.”

A grunt escapes Jack and they fall into silence. Jacob is happy with that; it gives him an opportunity to think about what he wants to say to the man beside him. Only he can’t concentrate as Jack fidgets in his chair and even when Jacob glares at him, he manages to avoid his gaze. Instead, he keeps checking over his shoulder to make sure Sam is still sleeping and for some reason, it irks.

“What were you thinking?” Jacob asks suddenly.

He’s barely holding onto his anger, and he realizes a second too late that his question could be interpreted in a couple of different ways where Colonel O’Neill is concerned. With a sigh, he clarifies: “Mounting a rescue mission.”

But Jack simply shrugs off his words. “We don’t leave our people behind, Jacob.”

“I’m not one of your team, Jack,” he reminds him quietly.

“You’re still one of us,” he fires back, then his voice softens to barely a whisper, “you’re Dad.”

* * *

_You’re Dad._

The words echo over in Jacob’s mind and he wonders just when he gave permission for Jack to call him such. Not that it bothers him as much as it should, which is probably telling in itself, he realizes.

A bottle of beer suddenly appears in his line of vision and he smiles his thanks at Sam. She doesn’t retake her seat, however, instead choosing to lean her arms on the rail as she watches the other half of SG-1 in the yard where Daniel is patiently trying to teach Teal’c the art of whiffle ball. Jacob then darts a glance to his right to see Jack is also watching Sam. But it’s the expression on the man’s face that surprises him; it’s soft, thoughtful, and there’s something else mixed in there that he can’t quite put his finger on. He cants his head but the movement catches Jack’s attention because he looks directly at him before he smiles easily and leans back in his chair.

“Carter,” Jack says as he lifts his own bottle of beer to his lips, “why don’t you go and see if Daniel needs a hand.”

She nods and quickly makes her way down the yard, leaving Jacob alone with her commanding officer. Another glance at Jack tells him it’s a deliberate move and he snorts.

“Don’t think all this good-tasting food buys your forgiveness.”

Jack turns his head to look at him, his stare a little too blank. “What?”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“Look,” he sighs, “let’s get one thing straight, Jacob. Are you, or are you not, sitting in my backyard – on this fine day, no less – enjoying the best charred meat you’ve ever tasted?”

Despite himself, Jacob feels his lips twist into a smile and it’s all the answer Jack needs apparently, when he nods once as he takes another drink. “It was worth it.”

“You could have been killed,” Jacob presses, but he’s not really looking for a fight.

“That was a risk we were willing to take.”

“George never should have approved the mission.”

“Carter would disagree. So would I, for what it’s worth,” he mutters as an afterthought.

“We barely made it out of there alive.”

“But it was enough.”

The certainty with which Jack speaks momentarily surprises Jacob and Jack sets his drink down on the table.

“I understand that you’re angry with us, Jacob,” he says softly as he leans forward, elbows on his knees as he casts a glance over at his team, “but we were never going to just sit by and wait. We were going to find you – one way or another. And,” he adds as he sits back once more, “if I had to do the same again, I would.” He pulls a face. “Well, except for the whole getting-shot-in-the-leg thing,” he shrugs, “but it’s a small price to pay.”

“Is it?”

Jack slowly meets Jacob’s pointed stare, then averts his gaze. He reaches for his beer but instead of taking a drink, he starts to pick at the label on the bottle.

“Yeah,” he finally mutters.

_“Jack –”_

“You’re alive,” he interrupts, “Selmak is – doing his thing,” he adds awkwardly, “and we brought you back home to Sam. Mission accomplished.”

Jacob folds his arms across his chest as he studies the man beside him and decides on what he should say because he knows Jack is trying to shut down the conversation.

On the surface, the colonel sees it as a successful mission and that’s all that matters. So, he’ll take a few more days of downtime and then start to look ahead to his next mission. But it’s what is beneath the surface that intrigues Jacob. He doesn’t think now is the time or place however, as Jack gets to his feet.

“You ready for dessert?”

 _And there it is,_ Jacob thinks, _the end of the conversation._

He regards Jack for a moment longer, then smirks. “I’m getting there.”

Jack smiles and goes to leave when Jacob reaches up and places a hand on his arm.

“Thank you for the rescue, Jack – and for keeping my little girl safe.”

“Always,” he says with a nod, before he clasps a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “I’ll see if the guys are hungry.”

He grabs his beer, plus another untouched one, and shuffles around the table, careful of his leg. He has one foot on the steps when he suddenly turns back.

“I fully supported a rescue mission,” he says, “but if you really want to point fingers –”

“I’ve already given Martouf a piece of my mind,” Jacob assures him.

Jack presses his lips together and nods once. With that, he descends the steps and Jacob leans forward in his chair. He watches with renewed interest as Jack makes his way over to the rest of his team, coming to a stop by Sam. He hands her the unopened drink and with his other hand, tenderly places it on the small of her back before he leans in and murmurs something in her ear that Jacob isn’t privy too. He thinks he should bristle at the scene unfolding before him, but instead he waits. And then he sees his daughter glance up at her commanding officer with those wide, blue eyes of hers and gives him one of the purest smiles Jacob has ever seen. It momentarily takes his breath away before he sees the colonel bump his shoulder against Sam’s, right before he claps his hands together and loudly declares, “let’s eat pie”.

Teal’c is, unsurprisingly, the first to make his way back to the deck, closely followed by Daniel, and then Jack and Sam side-by-side and Jacob swears he sees his little girl blushing as Jack pulls out a chair for her at the table.

The action is simple, but profound, and it reminds Jacob of a time when he would have done the exact same thing for his wife. He quickly tries to push the thoughts aside, but Sam must notice something is different and she looks at him in concern. Jack also notices and as he moves to the other side of the table and sits down, his gaze never wavers. “You OK, Jacob?”

He forces himself to smile.

“Yeah,” he says with a nod. “I’m fine.”

But when he risks a final glance at his daughter, he realizes with painstaking clarity that every time he now returns home, he’s lost another little piece of her to Jack O’Neill.


End file.
